This third helping of quirked-out indie from San Francisco’s RPV is a
bleakly beautiful affair, dealing mainly with the death of frontman
Chad Bidwell’s father. Lyrically, it’s oblique and perceptive rather
than relentlessly gloomy; musically, it’s endlessly inventive, managing
to slip effortlessly between elegy and abrasion without a single
stumble. Think Smog fronting Sonic Youth and you’re somewhere near.
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